You Might Be Hot, But I Liked the Dogs More

After an already pretty productive week (I had already seen West Point, Fickle Daddy, and Mr Fantastic this week), I was still sexually wanting. My insatiable sex drive needed more of something; more variety, more penis, or more orgasms–just more. This is where House Sitter comes in.

I matched with House Sitter on Tinder and for over a week he would ask me to meet up or come over to the house he was at. These requests would be during the day, right after work, or my favorite time–2am. I am obviously not a huge fan of booty calls, mostly because I am passed out by then and that bed is real comfortable after 10:30 at night. But I digress…When I matched with House Sitter (HS), his pictures made him look about a hard 8, and with his age of 22 I was hesitant if this was going to be a good choice or if I was going to get a “show me ur tits” within 3 messages. What can I say, past experiences can leave a girl leery. HS was very upfront about wanting to meet for what one could only hope and pray was not disappointing sex. Within just a few messages, House Sitter asked for my number so he could share pictures of himself, and that’s when I became the receiver of a beautiful dick pic. When I say beautiful, I mean it looked like it would make Catherine happier than a fat kid on dessert day. With his first invite, House Sitter enticed me with promises of massages. This was incredibly enticing, especially when I know I have the worst back ever. However, life and sleep got in the way.

Meeting up with HS was easier sad than done; I matched with him the Monday and he got straight to the point. I saw Fickle Daddy and Mr Fantastic that following Tuesday and didn’t really need to see three guys in one day, especially since I already had an orgasm with Mr Fantastic. I drug my feet on seeing him in person; this tends to happen when you’re busy with life and already have someone to help with most of your sexual needs. I eventually had free time to see House Sitter on Wednesday afternoon. Before getting ready to head over, I asked him if he had condoms; he did not have any, so I instructed him to go get some (I’m not a condom delivery service.)

He lived about 20-25 minutes from me, so I figured that plus my lazy way of getting everything together before leaving would be enough time for him to literally drive across the street to get a box of condoms. Boy, was I wrong. When I arrived at this fancy house on a golf course, I was greeted by a shiny and new sports car in the driveway (possibly his since there were clothes in the car and looked like a 2nd year senior’s car), House Sitter, and a great dane sized dog at the door. I was in love–that dog was the sweetest and gave the best big dog kisses ever! There was even a second big dog with which to give my all my love to.  Yet, all I could focus on were the two dogs in the room, not the pretty damn hot younger gentleman that opened the door for me with a toothbrush in his mouth.


Just House Sitter and his dog

House Sitter was around my height (5’9), dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a fit frame. To say he looked like the well tipped bartender of a college town is an understatement. He quickly informed me that he had not gone to buy condoms. I think my expression went from, I LOVE DOGS, to, the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?, real quick. We don’t do sans condoms with a guy that looks like that, ever. That is chlamydia real quick, and I’ve had that enough in my life. I responded to his failure by saying “Well we should go buy those before we start taking any clothes off.” He offered to drive to the store, and I was ready to go. That shiny sports car was made for tiny people with tiny legs. I am tall with big thighs–I did not enjoy the clown car ride to the local pharmacy store to get condoms. Once there, he left me in his car to go procure anti-STD protection. I then texted my safe buddy to let them know where I was and that I could over power HS if needed. When HS returned to the car, he decided to not only flash me the condoms he bought, but also that they had this “fancy” sex oil. He bought the Trojan massage oil; I don’t know how that’s fancy, but it was to him.

Once back to the house, he directed me to the side bedroom he was staying in, away from the adorable dogs sadly. He turned on a side table lamp while I noticed he had thrown a sheet on top of the bed, which he said was because of the dog hair. Immediately House Sitter started to get undressed and asked if I wanted that massage. I quickly responded and said yes and asked how far I had to be undressed for this as he stood in front of me in his boxer briefs. He didn’t respond, so I just stripped down to the panties I had on and laid face down on the bed. HS walked over to where I was on the bed and straddled me with no warning as he poured what felt like half the bottle of oil on my back.

Cold. The oil was so cold and it hit my only ticklish spot–my spine. I flinched and bucked up into him something fierce. He told me to calm down. Don’t tell a woman to calm down when you have her basically pinned down in a strange house with cold liquid running down her back. I assumed the dogs may have saved me in the end, they knew I was their kind. After massaging my back he pulled my panties off not with his hands, not with his feet, no HS went all porn style by removing them with his teeth. How could I tell? He would move them down, kiss me, remove from another side, kiss, and repeat until they were at my knees. While this sounds like it’s leading up to some slippery sex, it led to a lot of massaging of my ass.

Pushing my cheeks together, spreading them, pushing up, pushing down–it was a nice muscle massage if I needed that.

House Sitter was so quick to put on the condom that if I hadn’t seen it afterwards I would have thought he didn’t use one. He wasn’t into kissing and didn’t want me on my knees for doggy, just laying on the bed so he could fuck me that way. Why didn’t he want me in a better position? Probably so he could fuck me between my actual ass cheeks. I didn’t know if I should tell him that that’s not how sex works, but I just laid there. Eventually he entered inside me; his cock was decent sized, but I couldn’t feel it that well from the angle he used to fuck me. I tried to push my ass up into him as much as possible, but it just wasn’t as exciting as I wished. It didn’t take him that long to change positions; he had me roll over onto my back so he could play with my boobs while on top. Not too long after, he came, rolling off of me and getting up to get a towel for me. I asked if we could cuddle, to which he shrugged it as a yes.

House Sitter was not a fabulous cuddle companion, but at least I got some cuddles before trying to turn him on again. Because I didn’t give him head before the first time, I didn’t notice that he literally dunked his crotch in cologne. The smell of men, in forests, and their big beards was really strong on his trimmed pubes. His cock didn’t make me gag, but the smell did. Unlike other men, I wasn’t down there as long as I would have normally been. The second time was not as long as the first round, but at least I got to feel all of his cock this time around.

Once done, he said he was going to take a shower and I said I would clean up and put clothes on. When he came out of the shower (which was a drug out shower, honestly), he was overly surprised to see me still slowly getting ready. My bad, I had to check my phone and respond to work e-mails. I apologized and said I would be leaving shortly. I grabbed my things, kissed all over the dogs, and went on my merry way.

House Sitter reached out to me a few more times before he went back to school/work/wherever he came from. While I enjoyed it enough, he wasn’t really something more than a one night to me. I was also in Houston pretending to enjoy the company of someone with a tiny penis and a horrible alpha male personality.

Lesson Learned: If your gut ever feels weird, it’s probably going to be weird. Also, dogs make or break things, and if he was staying around and they were his, I would have been around 24/7.


The Daring Vagina

The Confused Ones Are Not Sexy

I was devastated with Tony Stark’s abrupt departure from my life that I was still in denial, and also needing validation. When you feel like I felt, you make dumb decisions. Let me rephrase that: you make ridiculously stupid decisions. I don’t know what really possessed me to agree to text this guy; his age was really young (20), he used faces when he texted constantly (not 😦 type, but o.o, which annoy me to death!) and his hair was incredibly long. But hey, Rebound was just a rebound.

Rebound and I texted a bit before he went into work. He invited me to come over after be got off work (at like 9:30 or so), and I didn’t have a reason not to. While waiting, I shaved, looked pretty, the normal routine. He texted me when he was home and I was all ready to go (fun yoga pants and a shirt and sports bra.)

When I arrived, he met me outside, smoking (joy.) He instructed me to pull around to almost the other side of this street. I was slightly confused, but hey, not my place. When I got out of the car, it didn’t take long for me to be like, fuuuucking a this was dumb. While he was tall, white, dirty blonde hair, he smoked (which will make me smell like smoke), and had a really weird voice infliction and sounded like he hadn’t hit puberty yet. These weren’t the deal breakers. Rebound then told me that his name wasn’t “Steve,” it was “Larry.” Side note: I don’t even remember what name he used, he’s written in my little black as “uber confused.”

I understand not wanting to share some personal information, I really do. However, the fun and crazy started pouring out of his mouth like a monsoon as we were walking. Allow me to list:
In a relationship, but his girlfriend doesn’t want sex more than once a week.
Lives with someone that would tell his girlfriend so I have to be quiet and sneak in.
He lived a “very Japanese style lifestyle,” which turned out to be code for he had no furniture.
He also said he was very simple. I feel that was because he worked minimum wage and didn’t have the means to have cool things, like a table.
He had no phone. How did he text me? His computer with a messaging service.

I was there, horny, and was I really going to be singing “Did I Shave My Legs For This” over this crap? At least his penis made up for it.

Rebound was slightly my type; he was pretty tall (over 6 ft), blue eyes, a bit nerdy, skinny with no muscle tone, and light hair. He maybe had all of three chest hairs. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and really baggy shorts that looked like high water pants on a woman. After sneaking into his townhouse (his roommate was totally checked out on the floor staring at a wall. Don’t do drugs, kids), which I didn’t even try to contain the sounds of my flip flops, we were in his room. Mattress was on the floor with mismatched and old sheets, one dingy and tiny pillow, and his laptop was next to the bed with a bowl that had some remaining ramen noodles in it. I had taken a whole lot of steps back in bed buddies. So many.

The whole situation felt awkward; but I was there to just have sex, even if he rambled on about living in California. I had already made the conscious decision that I wasn’t going to see him again, making my whole demeanour change. I was very passive; I just laid on his bed with my hands behind my head. Having no lamps, it was either all the lights or none. I guess you can count the glow from the laptop as a bad substitute for lighting. It took a few awkward moments before he made any move. To save myself the awkwardness of writing about the awkward sex, let me point out some key high and low lights instead.

His dick was long and pretty damn thick. Kid had no idea he had an awesome penis. Yes, he was tall and it was pretty proportionate, but if he hadn’t gone down on me, I wouldn’t have been able to take it as quickly as he was thrusting. Doggy style sex was actually bordering on painful. I’m sure I bled from the pounding.
When he went down on me, which I always appreciate, it was so lackluster. It was like being so excited you’re getting cake, but everything on it is wrong. No icing, some light crap mix, and it’s dry. I’d rather have nothing.
In missionary, his hair was in my face. He didn’t even try to move it out of my face. I don’t think I would have let it bother me so much if it wasn’t greasy and cigarette smelling. Just, for my sake, put your hair in a ponytail if you want to lean over a woman like that.
He was incredibly out of shape. I’m not skinny, but I’m in shape. I can keep going like the energizer bunny. This child had to take so many breaks to just catch his breath, and then smoking. I told him I couldn’t smell like smoke, so he opened the window and failed at trying to make his smoke go out the window. 
He asked me to be on top, which is ok, but he laid there like a log. I moved more than he did when I was on bottom. 
While fucking me, he would ask me if I would come back. I was thrown off the first time he asked and I didn’t respond. The second and third times (and so many more) I just responded with my noncommittal “sure I guess.” I don’t want questions asked during sex unless it is about the sex act at hand. My favorite question/comment ever was: you’d really enjoy having a girl eat you out and a dick in your mouth, wouldn’t you? No. I fucking would not. This was not asked by Rebound, by the way.

When this awkward train came to its final destination, Rebound told me I needed to hurry. I was puzzled; his roommate was already out of it like no one’s business downstairs. Apparently there were more roommates that would be home soon from the job they all worked at (making pizzas like a boss…while high as kites.) I asked for something to clean myself with; he tried to hand me dirty laundry. These pants went straight on up my legs, wetness included. While I was getting dressed, he was going over with me our cover story so I could come over and hang out with all of them. He decided that it should be that I knew him from California, and we’re friends, and since neither of us were single, it would all be ok. I just smiled and said ok. This cluster fuck needed to end immediately.

I showered with scalding hot water when I got home.

It took all of five minutes of me driving home for him to text me to ask if I had fun and when did I want to come over again. For someone that had a girlfriend, this was an unnatural amount of clingy behavior. He texted me a lot, and eventually, I stopped responding or giving excuses. He was a child; age and maturity. The situation wasn’t right for me, and Rebound was nothing more than a rebound.

Lessons learned: don’t look for a fwb right after having one end. It doesn’t go well.

The Daring Vagina

Oompa Loompa

Over a month of consistent sex with Tony Stark (at least once every 5 days…or so), and I was ecstatic. However, he slipped back into busy mode again. 10 days of no sex was too much. I understood not having sex on Valentine’s day because I had plans, but, I like sex and want it pretty normally. Daily. I decided it was time to post again; hopefully better results too. Also, I felt I needed to test out my orgasm on someone other than Tony Stark. I wasn’t expecting any magical confetti to come out again, but a girl can hope. This is where Oompa Loompa comes in.

When Oompa Loompa replied to my ad, he said he was 5’9, red headed ginger, overweight but working on it, and just moved here from Florida. I found out he was living with family (why did he reply to my ad when I said you HAD to host?…ugh), but would eventually have his own place. He seemed decent enough to invite him over for a weekend morning rendezvous; I was horny and needing a release now that I knew I could. I told Oompa Loompa about my challenge of reaching an orgasm during sex. He said he would do whatever was needed to help me; I was ecstatic. We texted like actual friends; he even used proper grammar while texting. We wound up sending snaps on snapchat, helloooo penises galore! Snapchat: just as unsafe as any other photo sharing app. We even talked on the phone. That is how I found out he had a dwi. I attract winners, yo. Winners that can’t get real jobs because of their records.

Oompa Loompa was aggressive; we started texting on a Thursday evening, and he wanted to get together Saturday. I was hesitant, but we got along really well through texting, and if this was going to be another long term bed buddy, might as well meet up. I hadn’t had someone over since Perfect Baggage and I had some good ol’ fashioned hate sex. Knowing I’d be alone, I did all the prep work needed: blanket on bed, shorts, sports bra and t-shirt, and new batteries in my toy–just incase.

Oompa Loompa arrived on time; I like punctual men. When I opened the door something seemed off; I couldn’t put my finger on it. I led him to my room and then it was in plain view: he was incredibly shorter than me.


Maybe I could see beyond it; I let it slide. Then I saw the left hand and the golden ring. I don’t judge, but two strikes in the lying and covering up department really dampens my mood. Even when we talked, he never bought it up. These two plus the whole, I can’t host thing, left a bad taste in my mouth for wanting to continue after a one night (morning) stand.

There was no kissing; it was so impersonal. It was almost a 180 from how personal the texting was. His cock curved up, was about 6 inches and a bit above average girth. Since I had told him what the special combo was to get me to orgasm, he suggested I get my toy out. Don’t have to tell me twice! Doggy style was exactly what I needed. It didn’t take long before he put a finger in my ass, and it took no time before I came. He commented on the fact that I wasn’t that hard. Bitch, you didn’t have to do shit but sit on your knees. What a dick.


So conflicted.

Oompa Loompa left almost as quickly as he came; it wasn’t super quick, but it was noticeable how fast he was ready to go. He texted me a few days later; I shot him down so quick for the lying. He called me on my bull shit; how could I say the height bothered me when I had sex and obviously came. That’s when I went on a rant about lying. Oompa Loompa said he wouldn’t initially lie; he put 5’8-5’9 as his height. He was 5’6. His face was practically in my boobs! I couldn’t do it. Height is a legit hang up for me. Sorry I’m tall, but I HATE men over 2 inches shorter. If he hadn’t lied, never would have replied to him. He obviously intentionally lied to me; I’m sure he wasn’t really expecting a second time.

Just don’t lie, kids.


The Daring Vagina

I’m a Commitment Junkie

My last one time fling (thank goodness) before Tony Stark came back into the picture was just so meh. I should have just done an about face when I saw him. Why didn’t I? I have a terrible habit of following through with commitments. Did I promise you I’d watch your first born child for a year when we were ten? Yep, I guess I’m still doing that. Old Balls was just so meh that even I couldn’t find a reason to ever see him again; I regret ever giving him my number.

Old Balls replied to a posting of mine and sent a decent picture. It looked like it was older (pixelated and all), but that didn’t mean anything really. He described himself as 5’9, fit, energetic and in the same situation as myself. After we talked a bit, I found out he was a pilot that lives in Philadelphia, happily married with kids, but lacking an exciting sex life. That’s where I come in! After I was ok with his situation, he decided to send me another picture. He was in a pool and all I could see was from the shoulders up. He looked older and with wet hair I couldn’t tell much else. Maybe a fatter face? It wasn’t terrible, just not that great of a pic. Oh well, the first one was what caught my eye.

Old Balls was staying at a fancy resort north of town while he was doing something work related, and if I had time, he wanted me to come see him. I blew him off. Twice. I finally just succumbed to meeting him and decided to go. I mean, at least we had running in common and he’d get me a beer. I love free beer! I had just finished an evening run and showered, telling him I’d be on my way shortly. He then decided to give me his number. I texted him, letting him know I would be on my way once I was done showering.

Once I arrived at the place, I had to walk FOREVER and a day in the freezing cold, in flip flops (my bad), and without proper attire. Parking at hotels is a bitch. The end. By the time I got to his room, I told myself it better be worth it. Actually, it wasn’t. Not at all. I was unpleasantly surprised.


Maybe it wasn't this drastic...but it so felt that way. Could have had a cane. Totally could have.

Old Balls opened the door and to my almost complete surprise, was 15+ years older than the picture he sent. He was balding–badly too, a gut, and was nowhere near being taller than me. I know I gave off the visibly upset vibe, but there I was, and he had continually been an incredibly polite gentleman. He offered me a beer while I sat on one of the queen sized beds. Why do people get rooms with two beds when you’re the only one staying? For me, one is for masturbating, and the other is for sleep, if I go that route. He kept asking questions to make sure I was ok, and if I was nervous. I think my nervous side checked out a long time ago. Why couldn’t every man that wanted in my pants act like that? Why? While drinking my beer, we talked about running for awhile. At least he’d understand my sore spots and would not touch them.

He was wearing actual winter clothes; for being from Pennsylvania, he thought this southern weather was actually cold. Pullover sweater with an undershirt, dress shoes, nice jeans and a belt. For it being after 10 in a hotel room, he was incredibly dressed up. I didn’t put my phone on silence, so anytime it went off, I’d look at it, using the excuse of, oh my partner might need me. That would be how excited I was.

It took Old Balls forever to make a move. Like, forever. I almost got up and left. Sex with Old Balls was just terrible. His penis was under average girth and length. After giving him head for maybe 5 minutes, he unceremoniously told me he was ready. Before getting on top of me, he started debating about a condom. I gave him the look. All men know the look, and women give the look: Really? You really want to chance that I have all the diseases and take them back to your wife? I curtly told him he needed a condom. Maybe it was because he was nervous, but he was so timid in touching me, I couldn’t even tell he was sucking on my nipples, if that’s what you’d call it. I literally just laid on the bed, watching Girls when he finally got on top of me. Thank god there was little to no kissing involved; I don’t think I could have made out with him. Old Balls didn’t even try to get me off. He did warn me it had been awhile right before the first thrust; it was all over in less than 10 minutes.

I got up, looked at my phone; just a few texts from my mom telling me to stop ignoring her requests for me to come visit, and I told Old Balls I had to get going. I quickly cleaned up in his bathroom (very nice, by the way), and left him with a hug. He told me that if I had time the next couple of days that we should get together. I just smiled, inwardly thinking, fuck no. I made up busy excuses, I’m good at those.

It didn’t take long before I randomly got a text from him, saying that he was thinking about our time together. And that he wants to get me off first…that’s cute. Especially because it is me. These random texts occur a lot. This would be a recent conversation we had:
OB: Just wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking of you, remembering our time together.  Can’t wait to fuck again and suck on your nipples!
DV: Oh really?
OB: Yes ma’am…hope that’s ok.
DV:  Why would it not be?


Over a month later:
OB: C,  hope you’re doing well.  Thinking of you. Should be back in town 2nd week of Sept if you’re available to get together.

Yeah, I didn’t respond. I’m actually busy, but I also have someone currently that I adore, so, that’s awesome.

Back to that lackluster night:
After getting in my car, I texted Tony Stark, almost pleading with him that I would make him dinner if we could hang out. He replied pretty quickly, saying he would love if I made him dinner. Thank goodness for Tony Stark!

Lessons learned: Know their age before you agree to sleeping with them, especially if you think they might be trying to hide that. It’s also ok to just leave. That took me awhile to actually follow through.

The Daring Vagina

Car Sex

Deciding to hit up the postings again, especially since I was incredibly horny on a certain day, I found what could be a possible good time. He was looking for a red headed bbw. Also made a point of saying he could host, also a win. Well, I had red hair if the light hit it correctly and I told him that when I responded to his ad. He was incredibly eager to meet up, like yesterday. We shall call him Car Sex.

Car Sex wanted to text almost immediately; I’m all for texting, but more than four emails being sent out would have made me more comfortable. So I avoided the question for my number, until he then asked again. I gave in and gave it to him; he wanted to talk, not text. I figured why not. I was horny and I had just gotten off work. I told him about my relationship, and he was ok with it. Car Sex had just gotten out of a relationship where he had sex daily and needed a fill. He even talked about her…constantly. He wanted to just meet me at first. But, we all know how that normally winds up. I questioned again that he was ok with hosting; he said he lived with his brother and his brother’s band, but it was fine.

He told me to call when I got close so he could meet me outside. When he answered, he told me he’d come out and meet me. He was already outside smoking when I pulled up. Things I was not aware of and not ok with my hair smelling like. He asked if he could sit in my car, I told him after he finished his cigarette. It was a bit cold and maybe I sounded rude, but I don’t smoke and don’t want my car to smell like cigarettes. I couldn’t really see him, and to be honest, I never had a good picture of him. He didn’t look like his pictures he had posted. He had blonde shaggy hair, tall (6+), and thin. In person he was wearing glasses and I could see an abundance of acne; the pictures he posted didn’t have any. I get the random pimple, but he looked like puberty just hit. Car Sex continually asked me if he looked like his pictures and if he was attractive in person. I was just like, sure, son!

We talked for a bit; he didn’t even have his own room in the house. Do NOT lie to people. Less horny women would have said peace out bitches, but I was horny, and thus I stayed. We wound up moving to his car because he wanted to smoke and I figured what the hell. We talked more and he wanted to take his penis out. Car Sex’s penis was decently sized; it was thicker than average, and just a tad long. He had shaved a few days before and it was an unattractive stubble. While I teased the head of his cock with my fingers, he was pleading with me to get busy in the back of his car. It wasn’t a very tidy car, let alone I just recently had a very “meh” experience in another car. I told him no. He promised me a bed and a bed is what I wanted.

While we were arguing this, his friend that was at the house, needed a ride to work. He asked if I’d come along. I’m sure he thought I would leave if he left me alone; very possible. I told him if come along. I sat in the front seat of his car while his friend got in the back. be introduced me to him as he started to drive him to work. On our way out towards the highway, we passed the gas station his brother worked at. He then proceeded to tell me what else his brother did: sold pot. I don’t really care, except that this felt like a bad long term fucking situation–if we ever fucked. His friend that we were driving to work worked as a bouncer at a strip club. After dropping him off, Car Sex proceeded to tell me about how his friend would bring home a new stripper every night to the house and sneak them in through windows. How classy!

Once back at the house, Car Sex recommended that we could have sex in the back of the band’s explorer (the band he wasn’t a part of and was basically a groupie for.) The back was apparently already made up as a bed. We just weren’t supposed to make it too messy. I warned him prior to coming over that if he was too big, he’d make my iud bleed. He acted like some CIA agent; he was investigating to make sure no one was around and told me to be quiet. I just rolled my eyes; I was in flip flops and he wanted me to be quiet and just somehow climb in the back of a suburban that was connected to one of those tiny trailers. I think I was giving off the, I don’t give a fuck attitude, because I even told him I didn’t want to give him head anymore.

Car Sex was tall; like, 6’1+ tall. The shitty pillows and blankets in the back of the vehicle made for a terrible bed; getting out of our clothes was hysterical now that I think about it. Car Sex acted like a paranoid drug addict; every noise he heard he would make me stop and he would duck down. The only comfortable and working position was doggy style. Yet, Car Sex wouldn’t go fast enough to climax. I just wanted it to be over by this point. After he finally came, he found a random sock to clean himself off and then tried to clean me off. I jumped away and told him hell no. I don’t want athlete’s foot in my pussy. While searching for clothes, he couldn’t find his own sock and started panicking. I just sat there while he basically threw pillows around. For someone near my age, he really didn’t think things through at all. Not that I always do, but, when it’s my place, I do.

So, I am a clutz; this is nothing new to me or anyone that knows me. Getting out of that damn vehicle was up there in my fears. I had to crawl through the window and find the place to put my flip flop clad foot, and not fall. He needed to smoke again; I told him I was ready to go home and bid him farewell. He texted me the next day to see when he could come see me at my place. I told him it was unlikely and I didn’t feel like having car sex exclusively, or ever again for that matter. And that’s how you get rid of a creeper.

Lessons learned: Don’t be so horny that you sleep with anything. You deserve better than car sex.

The Daring Vagina


After my performance with Mr. Adult and the “really?” moments from First Timer, I needed another guy. Boredom at work only leads to more casual hook ups. The next man I met was different. We shall call him Professor X.

Professor X responded to the same ad as Mr. Adult, but I didn’t hook up with him until a bit later. He was going to school to be an architect, was 27, fairly skinny, used proper grammar…the things that just make me way too happy! However, five or so long email conversations later, he dropped this:

Since you were honest with me, I should be with you… And if this is a deal breaker I totally understand…  Um, a few years ago I was in an accident, and long story short: I use a wheelchair.  I can still walk a bit and everything works, but I depend on one most of the time.  So… Uh, yeah.

Is that too weird for you?

Too weird for me? I don’t think that’s possible. I asked probably more questions than he was up for before we finally met. I reiterated that I’m not a fan of always being on top, and he explained how he could support himself in certain positions do he could be on top. He didn’t lose all the function in his legs, and he could prop himself up if wanted. Honestly? I was so game for this to happen just for the experience. We decided to meet a Friday night before he went on some trip for school (the accident made him miss a few years of school) so we could meet and see if we clicked.


Do all the positions!

I drove to Professor X’s place; it was an ok apartment. I called him once I got there so he could tell me where to go. He had a very timid voice, but then again, he also was a lot thinner than me. When I pulled up next to this MASSIVE truck he was like, oh hey…you parked next to me! That’s my truck. I figured he could drive, but I was really curious how he got in the truck. Just a little curious.

When I went inside his apartment, it was so quaint. He didn’t have a tv, or anywhere to sit really. I put my purse on his tiny breakfast table before he led me to literally the only place I could sit besides the floor; his twin sized bed. Professor X was tiny; a petite man, really. Brown hair, green eyes, and was maybe 5’7 (when I was laying next to him in bed I felt slightly longer.) We talked for the longest time on his bed once he sat down next to me. I don’t remember ever really being around someone that didn’t have full functionality of their legs (besides when they’re broken) and I really didn’t know what to expect from him. Professor X was the nicest guy; I don’t know how he was single, except maybe the whole architecture school thing keeping him busy. Or the wheelchair. You know, some possible deal breakers I guess.

When Professor X and I had texted, we talked about my love of lingerie. I told him I could bring a piece with me if he’d like. He insisted that I did, and told me to bring one in red. Once we reached an awkward pause in conversation, I suggested that I could go change into my lingerie, which he was all for. Once changed, I came back out to his bedroom. He had moved his legs on the bed and was halfway sitting up. I am incredibly awkward, have I mentioned that? I don’t know how to “be” sexy in lingerie, so I just came out and said, ta-da!, with my arms kinda out to the side. I did a little spin to show him before sitting down next to him on the bed. While he was visibly excited by this, neither one of us was a move maker.

We started out slow with kissing, and did we kiss. High school make out session! I finally suggested he should take his pants off; when I saw his cock, geez…length and girth never match a man’s body, I swear. His cock was incredibly thick and long; I kinda didn’t know what to do with it for a moment, but then I used my mouth for its intended sexual purposes. As mentioned, neither of us were move makers (I’m especially not if I don’t know the guy that well), so I just played with his cock for probably 40 minutes. Seriously, just played with it. I eventually gave up my cock playing times and he found a condom for us to use.

I got on top to start with; I teasingly kissed him, nibbled his ear lobe, and rode him incredibly slow. I’m not fast on top and his twin bed was not that suitable for me to really try to go fast. This turned from awkward to meh really fast. We wound up just kissing a lot…which turned into the BIGGEST hickey of my life on my neck. He apologized for it, but I didn’t think it would be so big or last as long as it did. We cuddled, or really, he laid there and I cuddled against him for awhile. It was peaceful and relaxing. I eventually got up to clean myself off in his bathroom. I think Family Guy nailed it to a point about Joe and his crazy bathroom contraptions.


I never heard from Professor X after I left, which makes me sad, but I don’t know if I could go through another time of only being on top again.

Lessons learned: just try everything once. Checking things off the sex bucket list left and right!

The Daring Vagina

First Timer; Are You…You Know…?

At this time, I hadn’t looked at the craigslist postings much. It was time to see if there was a possible man for me. That’s how I met First Timer.

First Timer’s ad was straight forward: never been with a plus sized woman and was told that they were amazing at giving head. I feel that was an enticing enough line. His ad said he was in his 30s (new super check mark), had a career (adult wording to employed, also nice), fit and well endowed (checkity check!) I sent a short bio of myself stating my attachment, and a pic not including my face (at least I’m trying to be safe.) It took awhile for him to reply back; he only sent a pic of himself shirtless from the neck to the belt line. Personally, I need a face to make sure you aren’t someone I fucked before (I sometimes even mess that up), and that I’m attracted. He seemed highly intelligent for your normal craigslist poster though; complete sentences, proper grammar–the fastest way to Catherine’s cervix! I also couldn’t tell-remotely even tell-what race he was. Catherine is incredibly nosey and picky about men; I also like to know if I can cross things off my list. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask First Timer if he was part black, Hispanic, or not. Filters on photos are misleading; even I can look tan.

We exchanged a few emails before he dropped his “bomb” that he was married and that he was looking elsewhere for sex. So, the hosting at his place went out the window. I gave a few options for him; we decided we should meet up to see if we clicked in public. I pressed for a face pic. What did I get? A big ol excuse of how he doesn’t want to because of his job…but it was needed for me to send him one. As can be expected, I wasn’t happy. He also didn’t give me an email to email him at instead of the supplied craigslist one, or a number (which I can see if you’re married); but how do you meet someone?

He worked right next to where I lived at the time, and wanted to meet at the Starbucks right there. I tried to squeeze him in before drinks with an old coworker. I arrived a bit early at the Starbucks and emailed him, asking if he was there. I waited 10 minutes before I left to go get a real drink. The minute I pulled into the other place I received an e-mail asking where I was. Seriously? This is why you use something, anything really, besides fucking craigslist emails. I told him I left and had told him that already. I was pissed at him for being a stupid dick with communication, but I agreed to get coffee with him in the morning.

Waking up an hour earlier than normal is not pretty. Especially when it’s not a guaranteed decent looking man. Oh well, I could do it. I made myself look decently cute for a Friday and went to Starbucks. Since I had no idea who he was, I walked in just looking for someone athletic looking. I headed to order a drink when this slightly shorter than me guy came up and introduced himself; it was First Timer. He actually was pretty good looking; other than being slightly short, he was great. His eyes were a pretty brown, mocha colored skin, incredibly fit, and short hair that looked like it had product in it. Being a gentleman, and getting me up super early, he bought me a drink. While waiting in line, he had to be on his tippy toes to be taller than me. I giggled at this, which made him comment that my eyes light up when I’m happy. Spectacular to know! We talked for a bit, or I talked while he stared at my boobs. Maybe they are super awesome, but let’s not stare in public, shall we?

First Timer suggested we go hang out in his car if I would let him take a better look at my boobs. I had time to kill, and I was feeling adventurous. While I’ve never had sex in a car, I’ve done a whole lot of other things because of this encounter. He pulled around to the backside of Hobby Lobby (irony!) and then asked if I’d be able to show him my boobs. Instead of taking my top off, I just “popped” them out the top of it. It took no time and he was happily sucking on them. Maybe I’m just awkward, but I didn’t know where to put my hands once I realized he had some sort of product in his hair. What type of product? Hell if I know…it wouldn’t come off my hand until I scrubbed it to death for thirty minutes later at work. He stopped sucking to tell me that I probably shouldn’t touch his hair because of said product. How was I supposed to know that!? So, right hand on knee, left one trying to rub his thigh.

He stopped again and asked if I wanted to see his penis since I made it so hard. I replied with a “sure,” and let him slightly undo his jeans to bring his cock out. It was pretty long, but not even remotely thick. Totally had this! Well, since I knew I would be getting NOTHING out of this meeting, I purposely teased his cock with my mouth; lips and tongue to be precise. He kept asking me to go faster; I told him no, I didn’t want him to cum since I couldn’t. First Timer wasn’t necessarily happy about this predicament, but, we both needed to get to work. I did let him feel just how wet I was and he about lost it; he practically begged me to suck him off. I smiled and politely said no. I’m just sooooo mean. So mean! He dropped me back off by my car, where I situated myself before heading into work where I had to spend the whole day horny. Life is rough being the Daring Vagina.

I didn’t hear from him too often enough to ever connect on a time to meet up. He did, however, decide to email when he was coming back from the airport and wanted to meet up for “car fun.” Nothing about having sex in a car sounds fun to me. He even needed me to tell him where would be a good place. I don’t like cars and I don’t like the possibility of getting caught with someone I don’t know well. He apparently didn’t like my response, or didn’t really get it because the email system on craigslist sucks, but I got a random email a week later asking if I still wanted to get together. No. I don’t like spontaneous sex or having to have excuses to leave at 11 at night. Who the hell leaves home after 9:30 unless they need to get medicine? Drug dealers. Mama didn’t raise no dealer! Needless to say, I never saw him again. And I never found out what race he was. Maybe black…maybe Hispanic….maybe a little bit of everything.


I really would like to know...

Lessons learned: First timers in general are interesting. I doubt I really was his first bbw. Don’t feel like because you replied to an ad you have to go through if they actually respond to your response. Especially if they don’t send a face pic, an email, or some other way to message them. And this is why we all get Kik.

The Daring Vagina